


The Beat of Birds Wings

by Toaster_for_my_bath



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 14:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20875928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toaster_for_my_bath/pseuds/Toaster_for_my_bath





	The Beat of Birds Wings

'Got a spare?'

'...yeah.' Sniper paused, lips pursed in a thin white line. You could see the scales tip behind his eyes. A moment later he digs out the box of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and presses one into Scouts extended fingers. Scout gestures with an eyebrow but Snipers already flicking a lighter. The air in the van falls anew with the heavy ebb of smoke. Scout coughs a little and Sniper looks sidelong at him from behind the wheel, trying to catch the boys grey eyes from beneath a dark scowl. In flitting glances he watches the kid suck down the smoke with the anxious haste of a casual.

'Everything alright?' He asks taking a pull from his own, the tip of it glowing. He drags it in steady, holds it, and releases in a cloud of cool grey indulgence. The familiarity of the long-term addiction settling him in shroud of ease.

Scout grunts and turns to look out the window.

Sniper rolls his tongue over the split in his lip, a little somethin for reminiscence, his gaze falls on the boy.

A leg tucked up to his chest, he rests an elbow on it and cradles his head in his palm. He makes a show of ignoring Sniper.

'Wannna talk about it?' Sniper says flatly, his attempt at an even tone. He'd caught himself from speaking impulsively. A boy with a fragile composure, he could read him like a book, speaking now felt like a violation of their fleeting stalemate.

Scout squirms. Everything about him screams in resentment. He's silent as he finishes the cigarette, turning to Sniper he crushes it into the ash tray on the dash. He folds his arms over his tucked up leg and sucks at the ashy taste on the back of his teeth. Cigarettes. Just as unpleasant first hand. 

'What happened the other night...' scout began, 'it...we...we're not anything more cos' of it.'

There was a tight silence.

Sniper sucks a breath in through his teeth. Tightening and releasing his grip on the steering wheel. He forces himself to relax. Curbing his tone for something gentle he parts his lips to speak but scout cuts him off.

'It doesn't mean I like you.'

'Huh...whatever you say.' The reply felt too sudden. 

Sniper recalls scout making the first move, the eagerness of his tongue, he wasn't entirely convinced. He licks his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. It hadn't been the answer he wanted however expected. Sniper forgot just how ill-tempered and quick-mouthed scout could be. He could almost feel the discomfort rolling off him. The kid didn't want to be there. Couldn't blame him. For all he had to say sniper felt like nothing would be the least damaging. He'd give him space, as much as he could while being stuck in the drivers seat next to him. Sniper pulls a pair of sunnies out of the glove box and slips them on over tired and bloodshot eyes, he dose his best to focus on the road.


End file.
